


We Have to Do Better

by EveSong



Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: Gen, Hurt, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23138191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveSong/pseuds/EveSong
Summary: missing scenes i wanted to write
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	We Have to Do Better

He tumbles into the tiny Cooper in a cloud of dust and sweat. Folded into the back of the car with Murat, he looks exhausted, he pants and can’t seem to get comfortable in the back trunk.  
5, in the middle, clenches her hands as though she yearns to stop the pained noises he makes at every bump in the road. 1 can see it all in the mirror. He doesn’t want to see it, this young man who nearly died tonight slumped against the back door of the car, debris still stuck in his hair. They all feel it.   
This was almost another 6.  
And it would have been, if 7 would have just listened to orders and let this poor kid die tonight. They all know it.  
“1, I’ll need supplies. He doesn’t look great.”  
“I got it 5, we’ll get whatever you need.”  
“I don’t need anything but a nap.” He doesn’t move his face from the warm breeze of the busted back window.   
Concrete. It’s concrete chunks in his hair.   
“Hey, 4, wanna give me the run down of how you got out? You know, in case I’m the one stuck up there next time?”  
He looks like he tries to chuckle at the idea of 1, free running from building to building, but it stops as he brings his right arm to hold his left side with a grimace.  
“I managed the crane all right, and got back to where we began, yeah?” 5 pairs of eyes watch him from the mirrors of the car, and 3 has to remind himself to keep up with traffic in Hong Kong. “There was a few guys behind me, but Rovach’s gotta be givin’ them speed, maybe? I dunno.” He trails away, and then a bump in the road causes him to open his eyes, as though he didn’t realize they were closed. He struggles to sit up a little more in the cramped space, knees tucked up to his chest. “Umm, It was going okay until one of them started throwing grenades, I think. It seemed like a lot of them.” He tries for a smile, but blood limns his teeth. He turns his head again to face the open window.  
Everyone breathes in at once in surprise.  
Grenades. Not only was he running for his life, but they were throwing grenades. And here he sits. Alive. Bruised, beaten, covered in debris and coated in a deep sheen of sweat and fear, this kid has outrun death today.  
“4, how are your ribs?” 5 seems to lose her fight with control and twists in the seat to inspect 4 in the cabin.   
“I think he’s passed out,” Murat looks bashful to say it. The first of their crew that he met, this small man, folded into the back of the overloaded car looks even smaller when he’s not moving.  
“Let him sleep, we’ll be at the safe house soon.” 3 pushes the overloaded car a little more to go a little faster than it probably can handle.  
“1… 1 he’s got blood in his ears.” 5 looks stricken.  
The ride to the safe house is quiet except for the wind whining through the damaged windows.

When they arrive, as if they had done it a thousand times together, they exit the clown car and tend their tasks. 7 carries the ordnance, 2 keeps a hand on Murat and pushes him to the house. 1 and 3 help a groggy 4 out of the car while 5 walks alongside and takes stock.   
She brushes concrete dust _from grenades exploding near him_ and directs the others where to place him on the couch in the first room.  
3 helps her pull off his jacket and shirt and there is a stiffening of the air in the room as they see the extent of the beating he’s taken. Bullet point bruises of shrapnel scatter his back and side, opening into dark petals of tiny poisonous flowers in his pale skin. His left side a clash of impact bruises like he was trapped in a giant’s spider’s web. Large hand shaped bruises around his throat, red and worrying before, become darker as they watch him sleep. His eye will not swell shut, but to eat will be a chore tomorrow.  
“Jesus” someone whispers.   
Ice is found, pain killers given, and the young man is left to sleep.

“At least 3 broken ribs, maybe some impact damage from explosions, contusions everywhere… I don’t even know how he got down the building to us in this state.”  
“Well,” 1 clears his throat, “he’s gonna have to be ready to work in 4 days.” As 1 leaves the room, the rest exchange looks varying from incredulity to anger to disappointment.  
~~~~~~~~~~

“The boat is sinking, come on.” 1 reaches out to help 4 struggle to his feet. The deck is pitched, or maybe 4’s mind is still reeling from too many punches.   
He staggers behind as 1 sprints away, and 4 is determined to keep up. But the deck shifts beneath his feet as he meets a set of stairs. It couldn’t have been him that fell; his face is bewildered and frightened as he loses his footing and crashes down to the deck. 1 turns to see 4 in a twisted pile and steps back to pull him up by the body armor. “Come on buddy, you got this… let me help you.”   
4 looks back at him with unfocused eyes, “I didn’t have a weapon” he says flatly.   
It twists 1 gut, and 4 looks again at the ground as though to be sure where his feet will land. They stumble together toward to chopper that waits on the aft deck.  
As they climb in, all eyes are on 1. 4 needs help, and 1 is aggressive focus to get the young man into the chopper. 4 covers his head with the offered cloth, then leans his head back and seems to fall instantly asleep, right arm clutched by his left, pale face lined with worry or pain or both.  
“Grenades, sharks, sith, I have no idea what he was up against, but the guy stomping on him was a goddamn giant.” 1’s face is dark with fury.   
5 leans over to see 4’s face, just now recovering from Hong Kong, a new map of pain, worse than before. She wouldn’t know until they could stop, but one thing is definitely clear. “His right arm is broken, probably more or the same ribs.”  
We can’t keep doing this.   
We have to do better.

**Author's Note:**

> I write for paper zines a lot, but this is the first time I have dipped my toe into online fanfic.  
It was a one-off quickie, but I do hope that the rumors of this becoming a movie franchise for Netflix turns out to be true.


End file.
